


We Still Have the Radio - I.

by luckjustkissedyouhello



Series: Rollercoastermoon's Whumptober 2020 Fics [2]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Broken Bones, Car Accidents, Gen, Head Injury, Near Death Experiences, Prompt: Water, Vomiting, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luckjustkissedyouhello/pseuds/luckjustkissedyouhello
Summary: The next thing he’s aware of is water against his face, wait no, all of him, where he lays on his left side. Water that is rapidly rising. He lays there dazed. Then a groan above his head has him jerking back into the moment, fear lancing through him, stealing his breath.Ben.
Relationships: Ben Arnold & Sammy Stevens
Series: Rollercoastermoon's Whumptober 2020 Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946800
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	We Still Have the Radio - I.

> “Well, it would've been  
>  Could've been worse than you would ever know  
>  Oh, the dashboard melted  
>  But we still have the radio”  
>  Modest Muse - Dashboard  
> 

“I’m just —I’m just saying, Sammy, maybe check a weather report before you make me take an outside mobile nature-intake-y mountain stroll with you!“ Ben rants from his spot in the driver’s seat. There have been many a Bensplosion in the last ten minutes since they got in the car. Over the last hour, really.

Sammy looks over at Ben, to check that he isn’t really, _really_ , mad. He’s not, near as Sammy can tell. Ben’s frowning at the road as he drives, but that has more to do with the rain coming down in sheets, he’s got that line between his eyebrows he gets when he’s concentrating. When Ben’s angry, really actually angry, his cheeks get patches of red and his eyes get small. His hands will shake, and if he’s in a rare moment of full on maximum rage, all of him shakes. Ben just looks like a drowned rat - Sammy knows he’s not looking much better in that front, so glass houses and all that. His slight frown just means the rain is killing his visibility. Sammy’s sure Ben is just grumping to grump, and considering they were over forty five minutes away from the car when the torrential rains started up, Sammy can let him grump a little. Even if he’s kinda stealing Sammy’s normal role.

“Okay. One, just say hike for fuck’s sake that was six words to say say what one word can. And two, I haven’t watched a weather report since Channel 13 fired Storm Sanders. It broke my poor little heart. I can’t watch anyone else talk about barometric pressure, Ben.” Sammy says the second part as an excuse to mention Channel 13, to get a rise out of Ben. Sammy never watched Storm’s reports before the man tried to turn them into Skinwalkers or whatever— no, Sammy can’t lie, even to himself, about a rational explanation. He knows for sure that was what would’ve happened if Storm hadn’t been interrupted by Walt. _Twice_. But Sammy _really_ doesn’t want to think about Walt, that way lies a panic attack or some good old fashioned self loathing, and he doesn’t need either of those right now thank you.

“Sammy Stevens!” Ben shouts, as expected, cutting Sammy’s line of thought off, almost like he knew that was where Sammy’s awful fucking brain was going - which is entirely possible, it’s _Ben_ , saying his name in four long, dragged out syllables in that way only Ben can. “How fucking dare you, sir!”

Sammy laughs, he can’t help it, can’t pretend he wasn’t winding Ben up for shits and giggles. Ben’s concentrating on the road frown disappears after a moment, as he looks over at Sammy, grinning, before getting serious again and focusing back on the road. Sammy can hardly see a car’s length ahead of them. 

“Could you text the girls, so they don’t worry?” Ben asks him after a moment. “We should’ve done that when we got in the car.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Sammy sighs, dreading the bitching out from Lily he’s likely to face when he turns his phone back on. Sweetzer Forrest is a dead zone (as opposed to the literal fucking Dead Zone that is Perdition Wood), and Sammy’s long since learned he needs to shut his phone off or risk it draining its battery trying in vain to find a signal. Emily might be cross with them too, but she probably won’t use as many instances of the word ‘fuck’ as Lily is likely to use. 

Sammy knows the Lily Wright tongue lashings only happen because of her concern and fear for their safety. They’ve been coming more and more often since The Void has been open for a month now. Sammy can’t be mad at her, not really, since he lost it when Ben and Emily forgot to text that they were stopping for gas and when ten minutes late coming back from a grocery store run last Saturday, but a man can only be called a ‘fucking topknotted imbecile’ so many times in a week. 

Sammy tries to lean forward to get his cellphone out of the glove box where he stowed it, but his seatbelt does that annoying immovable fucking band of fabric thing and locks, stopping him from leaning forward enough to reach the glovebox. 

“Goddamnit,” he curses as he pulls on the fabric a second time. It won’t give. 

Sammy unbuckles his seatbelt to reset it. That turns out to be a very bad choice.

They are on a small bridge over a thin section of the lake when Sammy undoes his seatbelt. The bridge has a hill to it. There is no way for Ben to see what was happening on the other end of the bridge given the rain and the hill. He isn’t even going fast. 

Slow or not, he has no real warning before cresting the hill. No way to see before it’s too late that a small tractor trailer jackknifed across the whole width of the road. 

Ben shouts, and slams on the brakes. He cuts the wheel to the right, sharply. Sammy's head smashes into the passenger side window. He doesn’t see that the truck took out half the railing and that the car is hydroplaning right at the gap, he can hardly process anything after that blow to his head. He hears Ben’s scream as the car spins a quarter turn more before hitting and jumping the small curb before where the railing would be, if it still existed. 

They go over, both of them screaming.

Sammy feels the sickening sensation of being weightless for a long moment, like at the crest of a rollercoaster. The car barrel rolls a half turn as it falls the twelve or so feet to the lake below. Sammy hits the ceiling of the car a moment before the car hits the surface of the lake, upside down. 

Sammy’s head bounces off the ceiling of the car on impact. The next thing he’s aware of is water against his face, wait no, all of him, where he lays on his left side. Water that is rapidly rising. He lays there dazed. Then a groan above his head has him jerking back into the moment, fear lancing through him, stealing his breath. _Ben_.

“Ben!” He calls, nearly getting water in his mouth as he struggles to lean up out of it. His head is swimming, his heart pounding. Ben is with him. Where’s--

“Sammy!” Ben’s voice comes from above him. 

Oh. Sammy looks up and realizes he is on the ceiling of the car. The car that is upside down and filling with really fucking cold water. And Ben is sitting in the driver’s seat, suspended by his seatbelt.

Sammy sits up, it takes a concerning amount of effort. Ben is cursing and struggling with the seatbelt for a long moment, then there’s a sharp click, and Sammy instinctually reaches up to catch Ben as he falls toward Sammy. 

That’s a mistake. His left shoulder is fucked up, Sammy realizes the moment Ben’s weight hits his outstretched arms. Sammy cries out and Ben falls kind of into his arms, but mostly onto the ceiling of the car. Sammy hopes he at least broke Ben’s fall a bit. 

Ben stares at him, wild eyed. There’s blood on his face, he must have hit the steering wheel or something. The car is now half full of water. It’s coming in quick. Ben looks around, taking in everything rather calmly. 

“Window,” Ben tells him, and moves to the passenger side window, quickly but still so calm. That's good. Sammy doesn’t think he needs to freak out if Ben is calm. 

The window is already broken and letting in a stream of water. Sammy thinks his head cracked it, and the impact of the car’s roof on the water broke the rest of it. Sammy watches, water rising up to his chest as Ben punches out the rest of the glass and suddenly there is _a lot_ of water filling the car. 

Ben’s face is suddenly close to his. Sammy blinks at him. They’re crammed together in a last bit of air in the backseat foot wells. Sammy thinks he should be scared. But it doesn’t feel like this is happening to him, to Ben. 

“Deep breath,” Ben tells him.

Sammy does as he’s told. He’s confused and having trouble following everything real well, but he knows Ben Arnold. He knows he’s safe if he follows Ben, listens to what Ben tells him to do. 

And then Ben is grabbing him by his left wrist and pulling him into the water and Sammy ignores the pain that shoots across his chest from hs shoulder, the water’s kinda numbing his body anyway. Under the water, it’s so dark, Sammy can hardly tell if his eyes are open, except they’re stinging so he knows they’re open. Sammy feels his way after Ben. His foot gets caught on a headrest for a long hellish moment, but then he feels the broken window’s bottom edge with his free right hand and he pulls himself through, with the help of Ben pulling on him, guiding him.

Out of the car, Sammy can see the lake's surface, shimmering above their heads. It’s not too far above them. Ben’s grip on his wrist remains tight, a tether Sammy follows after, as they kick their way to the surface. 

It takes maybe forty five seconds from the time Ben breaks the window until their heads break the surface. Sammy gasps for air the second he can, and is rewarded with water splashing into his mouth from the waves they’re making. Sammy chokes, coughs the water out. He focuses on Ben, who is so close to him, and, belatedly, Sammy realizes Ben’s talking to him.

“—okay,” Ben is saying, and Sammy doesn’t know if he’s reassuring him or asking if Sammy’s okay. Sammy’s not sure if he is okay, but he nods anyway, wanting to reassure Ben. Ben looks so damn worried.

Ben lets go of his arm. Sammy starts to sink before he realizes he has to kick his feet, move his body to keep himself afloat. His legs are numb from the cold water. _All_ of him is numb from the water. His mouth and nose dip back below the surface. 

“Sammy!” Ben shouts at him and slides his arm around Sammy’s back - was in the process of doing that, Sammy realizes. Ben wasn’t letting go of Sammy for long, just long enough to change his grip. 

Ben gets a good grab on Sammy’s hoodie, to keep him afloat. Sammy tries to kick his feet to help. His legs feel like lead weights, his waterlogged hiking boots aren’t helping. Ben moves him, so that Sammy is on his back, guides him so his legs float up naturally. Sammy’s back and shoulders are against Ben's chest, Ben’s left arm looped under his, he’s got a firm grip on the front of Sammy’s hoodie again. Sammy thinks it should hurt his arm, being in that position, raised up by Ben’s arm under it, but he’s not feeling much of anything. He thinks he should be scared about that, but he’s not. Sammy knows he is safe, secure in Ben’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Ben assures him, unnecessarily, but Sammy thinks he makes a sound that indicates he understands. He knows Ben has him, _of course_ Ben has him. Which is good, it is taking a lot of Sammy’s energy to keep his head above the water. 

They start moving. Sammy realizes it’s because Ben is kicking his feet and trying to swim with his free arm. He thinks maybe he should help Ben. His movements are uncoordinated at best, but he doesn’t actively sabotage Ben’s, and they move towards the shore in an awkward, two man backstroke. 

Every few kicks and flails backwards with the arm he can move, he hears Ben say “We’re okay.” Says it over and over, like a mantra. 

He’s not sure how long they’re in the water. It can’t be long, they are in a narrow part of the lake. But the water is so damn cold, and every movement is a struggle. He thinks he hears people calling out to them, the distant wail of an ambulance or fire truck. Finally, though, after what seems like forever, they run aground. Sammy sits up, taking his weight off Ben so that the other man can sit up too - they’ve made it to the bank of the lake.

A moment later, there are hands grabbing at his shoulders to haul him onto the embankment, dragging him out of the water. Sammy screams in pain, unable to keep the sound from escaping between his clenched teeth - he hadn’t meant to let that out. As soon as he’s mostly on the grassy muddy bank, just his boots in the water still, the person lets go of him, and Sammy curls up on his right side in the mud, hugging his left arm to his torso. So much for the cold water numbing everything.

“Sammy?” Ben asks, his voice shaky and unsure, and Sammy realizes he’s got his eyes squeezed shut.

Sammy forces himself to open his eyes. Ben is kneeling in front of him, rain and lake water dripping down his nose, off his chin, from his hair that’s plastered all across his forehead. There’s blood on his face, running pale pink from the water, Sammy thinks it’s coming from a cut on Ben’s right eyebrow. Ben looks so distressed, so distraught, that Sammy forces himself to try and sit up. Sammy’s right hand sinks into the muddy bank as he uses it to support himself, but he manages to sit up. Everything keeps moving for a moment after he gets upright, and he has to grit his teeth against the sudden ache in his skull and down his neck returning with a vengeance and bringing their pal nausea with it, but his effort is rewarded with a relieved smile from Ben.

“Sammy, where are you hurt?” Ben asks.

“You’re bleeding,” Sammy says instead of answering the question, not telling Ben he thinks his collarbone is broken, or that he’s pretty sure he’s got a concussion. 

“Yeah. I think I hit my head. It’s—it’s fine. You just scre—” Ben stops talking, and goes pale. He was reaching up to touch the wound in his eyebrow, Sammy thinks, but as he raises his right hand up, both him and Sammy see the way Ben’s forearm is bent in a way that forearms really should not bend. It looks rubber. 

Sammy and Ben stare at each other for a moment, then Ben looks back at his arm. “Oh. That’s why that hurts,” Ben says, his voice small and distant. 

His eyes roll up into the back of his head and he pitches forward. Sammy makes the mistake of lifting both arms up to try and catch him (again). Ben’s weight lands on him, throwing him backwards. Sammy cries out - he can feel the edges of his collar bone grind together - and then they hit the ground and Ben’s head hits Sammy in the chest.

He doesn’t quite pass out, but he can only lay there and watch what is going on around him. His body feels so distant, his pain, his panic about Ben...it’s all happening to someone else. Someone - Sammy knows there has to be other people here, they pulled him and Ben onto the lakeshore after all, but his focus has been on Ben and Ben only - eases Ben off of him and puts Ben in the recovery position. Sammy lays flat on his back, watching Ben. 

It’s only when he becomes aware of who’s talking to them, or above them, really, that the world snaps violently back into focus as a fresh round of adrenaline shoots through his system.

“You’re a brave man, Patrick. Helping me save these two. When I came across the accident I just _knew_ I had to help any Kings Falls citizens that were in danger, even if it happened to be these two troublemakers. You did great, Patrick. I’m proud to be your Mayor—“

“Grisham!?” Sammy asks, sitting up and turning his head way too quickly to look up at the man standing next to him, the one who pulled him the last few feet to safety — and conveniently didn’t get in the water, while he and Ben were struggling to swim to the shore, Sammy realizes now.

The world keeps moving after Sammy sits up, violently tilting and swirling around him. He’s throwing up before he knows it’s coming, vomiting all over Grishma’s shoes and the bottom of his pant legs. 

“ _Jesus Christ_ Stevens!” Grisham shouts, falling out of smarmy politician mode and into the asshole Sammy knows and hates. He pulls one foot back like he’s going to kick Sammy, but thinks better of it. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” 

Sammy stares up at him for a long moment. He thinks Grisham might have two heads...which is concerning on like five different levels. He’s not sure he can live in a town with two Grisham’s. “I’m gonna…” he starts to say slowly. Everything is still spinning and Sammy can’t quite feel his face. He closes his eyes. When he opens them again he’s on his back. “Lay down,” he finishes belatedly. 

Above him, he hears Grisham clear his throat. He must remember the other man, then, a witness to his shittiness. Sammy hears Grisham talking to the guy, but he doesn’t really listen. Instead, he turns his head to his right, to look at Ben. Ben’s conscious again, blinking dazedly at Sammy.

Sammy reaches out his right hand, finds Ben’s uninjured arm and takes hold of his wrist. They look at each other for a long moment - the enormity of what just happened, of how _bad_ the accident could’ve turned out hits Sammy like a brick. They could’ve died. Sammy could’ve lost Ben. And it wouldn’t have been because of any of the shitty things King Falls has thrown at them, it would’ve been an accident, plain and simple and way too real. Sammy gasps for breath, his chest tightening. He could’ve lost Ben!

Ben moves his hand so that he’s holding Sammy’s hand, rather than Sammy just clinging to his wrist, and gives Sammy’s hand a squeeze. Ben seems to be thinking all the things Sammy is, Sammy can see it in his eyes. But then Ben grins at him, that mischievous grin Sammy has come to love and fear in equal measures. 

“Did you just ralph on the mayor, Sammy?” Ben asks, his voice strong, reassuring in it’s own right. Ben must be in pain, his arm is deformed for fuck’s sake, but he doesn’t sound as bad as he did before he passed out.

Sammy grins back at him for a long moment, his heart overflowing with his love for the other man, and then he says: “ _Ralph_.”

When members of the King Falls Fire Department make it down to the shoreline a few minutes later, they are surprised to find their two car accident victims giggling at each other, a confused truck driver, and one very pissed off Mayor.

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to this is coming on Day 8 of Whumptober. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
